The Greatest Gift
by Firniswin
Summary: A lonely Strider gives a gift to a young ranger and in turn receives an even greater one.


-1**The Greatest Gift**

**Rating**: K (G)

**Summary: **A lonely Strider gives a gift to a young ranger and in turn receives an even greater one.

**Warnings:** None.

Estel stared blindly at the withered, frosted trees, remembering the years of his past; his years in the House of Elrond. He could recall so many winter solstice parties where his brothers, though told explicitly to make him stay upstairs, had snuck him down to enjoy the merriment as the cold weather pressed on.

So much time had passed since then. The years had come against him now, wearing on his human body like an anchor. He knew that mostly, it was from the hardships his life had brought- and yet, he also knew that any normal man his age would now be of little help in working the fields or in making any income for a family. But, as a numenorean, his health was strong and his body was fit as if he were only in his thirties. He could rival any of the younger rangers, especially when his experience was considered.

"Strider?" a young voice called, catching awkwardly and shaking with cold.

Estel turned, his silver eyes stopping on Jorel, a young, inexperienced ranger who had just recently joined his troop. He was also numenorean though he had just recently learned this. His parents had died years earlier and he had been raised by some townsfolk. They had done well in raising the boy. He was responsible, kind, but threatening. He knew how to stand his ground and wasn't afraid to protect something he loved, and because of the increase of orc raids on neighboring villages, he'd had plenty of practice.

"Yes, Jorel?"

The young man was still quite cautious around Strider, obviously afraid and unsure of him. Of course, it had not always been so awkward, but unfortunately for Jorel, the boy had walked in on Strider while he slept and had seen the scars he bore, both mentally and physically. From that point on, every time that Jorel saw the ranger, he seemed afraid to be near him.

"I was… um… Well…" the boy scratched the back of his dark head, gulping. "My family in Corbal, just North of Belfalas, was hoping I might spend the winter solstice with them…" the young man looked away, afraid to look into Strider's hard gaze. "If not, I understand. I mean, orcs don't break for the holiday, I know and neither does my training but…" he stopped and nodded his head so it fell to his chest.

"Jorel, why do you act the way you do around me? I am not a tyrant am I? I do not beat you or slay your kin, do I?" Estel feigned a hurt look, and yet, he kept his face stoic. "You are a great man and an excellent warrior- but I want you to be able to trust me. I want you to be able to trust me, as a leader."

The boy seemed stunned that his question had been replaced with another. He kept his head down a moment, obviously in deep thought.

"I…" he stuttered. "You just seem so solemn all the time." he quieted, looking up to see what Strider was thinking. Seeing that the man took it in, he continued, a little more boldly. "I see you often, sitting here with your pipe. You stare off into the distance, past Minas Tirith and past even the White Mountains." he stopped a moment and shifted. "I have seen your scars and I can not imagine how long and lonely your life has been. Never have I seen or heard anyone call you father, brother, or even son. Never have I seen a nephew, aunt, or even a friend who is not of our blood. Every man here treats you with respect and honor- none but Halbarad treat you as anything other than a captain."

Estel smiled sadly and turned back to look at Minas Tirith, which was now a dark shadow in the far distance.

"How old do you think I am, Jorel?"

Again, going quite off topic, Jorel was not sure how to take this question. The boy frowned and sheepishly looked Strider up and down. It was obvious this did not help because while he seemed young enough, Strider's eyes and the scars the boy had seen told another story.

"Your body would say that it is thirty-five. Your spirit, however, is far older. Like an elf of Loth Lorien or even one that is already far across the sea."

"A wise answer, lad." Strider nodded firmly.

Rising to his feet slowly, he stretched and took a firm step. The snow gave a soft crunch beneath his boots and the earth's white glow shone in his eyes. He stopped when he stood face to face with Jorel, who seemed a little less frightened of his presence.

"Go, Jorel, and have my blessings for a safe journey. Since the moment the rangers were formed, each captain has given a gift to his men. This is the one I give you. Go safely, be merry, and enjoy the company of your family. There may not be many more times where I will be able to allow you this." As he finished, Jorel saw a glint in the captain's eyes. It was something deep, dark, and mournful.

Jorel wondered how long it had been since Strider had seen any family. He knew that he'd been captain for quite some time, but who knew how long it'd been since he'd taken some time for himself.

At once, the boy felt selfish and he immediately wanted to take it back. But before he could, something caught his eye- not just something, but someone.

There was a figure behind them- no three. They were tall and dark beneath the fading light. One shimmered a little as the moon rose while the others merely stood, silhouetted.

Jorel would have shouted, but something stopped him. A peace had overwhelmed him and he knew at once that these figures could not mean any harm.

At this point, Strider had noticed them too. He stopped immediately and stood firm, his eyes open wide, his breath frozen on the air as he listened. Jorel dared not move, for fear of breaking his concentration.

Slowly, Estel turned, hand at his hilt.

"Who goes there?" he called voice rock hard and cold as the wind that blew through his cloak.

None of the three figures answered and he squinted as one, the pale one took a step forward.

In the pale moonlight, he was still hard to make out, but Jorel noticed that Strider's stance loosened and his hand dropped heavily from the hilt of his sword. He heard the captain's breathe catch in his throat as he took a small step towards the being.

"L-Legolas?" the whisper was soft and Jorel squinted, confused.

The figure came closer, trotting towards the numenorean and laughing softly.

Strider gave a loud laugh and immediately ran for the other figure, his arms outstretched. He leapt at the tall lengthy man and wrapped his arms around him so tightly, that Jorel thought Strider might break him in half.

"Sweet Uru! Legolas!"

At once, the two other figures ran for the others and also wrapped their arms around Strider.

Now that the three were closer, Jorel could see their complexions and their ears. These were no mere men but elves!

Jorel had never before seen an elf and his eyes went wide at the realization that Strider knew these three so well that they were embracing.

"You didn't think we'd let you by yourself out here for too long did you?!" one of the darker elves said.

"Father would have killed us!" the other stated with a very displeased look.

"You can't be here!" Strider was whispering to the three of them, his disbelief still so strong, even after holding onto them for so many moments. "You can't be! I got your gifts-"

"You mean the soap?!" the blonde one laughed. "That was just because you need it-" he stopped, touching the man's body and giving it a sniff. "I see you haven't used it!"

"This is your gift, Estel." one of the twins chuckled and hugged the man again.

"Your gift from all of us!" They embraced again and Jorel smiled, beginning to back away from the group so that they could have a little privacy.

He didn't know who the elves were or how Strider knew them, but they had given him a great gift, and in Jorel's mind, that was all that mattered.


End file.
